The Joker and the Thief
by ExtraordinarySoul
Summary: Harley Quinn, formerly Quinn Harlem, knows Batman's true identity. And she decides to use this against the Joker, the criminal she is determined to outdo. There's only a tiny glitch: she might just be falling for him. Joker/OC
1. Part 1: Gone, Baby, Gone

Hello, everyone

**Hello, everyone!**

**So I've seen Dark Knight twice now and have become completely obsessed.**

**With the Joker, that is!**

**I researched Harley Quinn, his 'other' (or the closest to it), and I must say that I truly despise her story. Or at least, how she became Harley. Just like they did with Catwoman's back story (changing to Patience instead of her original name), I'm switching things up.**

**Please enjoy…and I accept criticism. The kind that is CONSTRUCTIVE. (i.e. no flames, please)**

**--**

"Mother..."

Standing over her now dead mother's body, Quinn Harlem started to shake. Her voice choked; tears formed and ran down her cheeks. Blood was everywhere. It was a blinding sight for a seven-year-old to see.

"QUINN."

She turned and saw her father standing there with a gun in his hand.

"The bitch was asking for it," he said gruffly, "She was going to divorce me...and run off with that repair man..."

Quinn shook her head. This wasn't real. It wasn't happening. Well, she DID know her parents fought alot...and that her dad was determined never to let her mother leave him...but never in her wildest thoughts did she think her father would go so far as to murder her.

He gestured to his daughter, "I love you, baby...please forgive me..."

John Harlem raised the gun at his daughter and pulled the trigger. With grace and seemingly ease, Quinn tumbled forward, the shot missing her. It had to have been all those gymnastics classes that saved her then. Her heart pounded in her chest as she snatched the gun from her dad, pointing it instead at him.

"You need to go to a hospital, Daddy," she told him, "You have to. Mummy said so."

John shook his head, "No...no, Quinn, I won't..."

Just then, the sound of a police siren rang out. Quinn panicked, knowing the neighbors had to have heard the gunshot from before and called the cops. She gripped the gun in her hand. She'd seen her dad beat her mother senseless over and over, making it so she couldn't leave the house. It was no wonder her mother fell for the repair man, the only way of escape she had. No, Quinn decided, she wouldn't let him win this time. She had to do this.

Mere seconds before the police beat down the front door, Quinn Harlem pulled the trigger.

It was the first of many guns she was to fire.


	2. Part 2: A Chance Encounter

True, the first chapter was hardly anything but a glimpse into Quinn's past

True, the first chapter was hardly anything but a glimpse into Quinn's past. Which, as you Dark Knight viewers can tell, might just be as troubling as the Joker's himself. This will be longer…I hope.

HEATH LEDGER THE JOKER. In my fic, anyway. 'Nuff said.

**A/N: Thanks to **_**Nymphadora-Weasley**_** for pointing out that Harley Quinn's real name is Harleen Quinzel. In my fic I have changed that name to Quinn Harlem, since I really, truly despise the other name. I know, Batman purists everywhere are looking to kill me. My apologies. But I do hope Miss Weasley keeps reading!**

**--**

At the young age of 23, Quinn Harlem was possibly the prettiest waitress at Gotham's tiniest diner, Georgia's, which resided downtown. All the other waitresses were older women, who had been working there for practically their entire lives. Quinn was like the baby of the group, but she didn't mind.

Most of the time.

Her life was relatively boring. She'd gone to college and such, but never really made a lot of friends or lasting relationships. Quinn lived alone and kept to herself. Now, after working at the diner for nearly two years, she seeked adventure.

"Hey, Quinn!" Shirley, a middle-aged lady who had dyed her hair so many times it was fried, shouted, "We need ya to take that guy over there, Valerie's on her break!"

Quinn sighed and tucked her notepad into her black apron, heading to the lonely corner table. A man in a long, purple jacket was seated there, alone, with black leather gloves and greasy hair covering his pale face. Quinn sighed. She'd dealt with creepy people before. She could handle it.

"Hello, welcome to Georgia's, what can I-"

"Nothing, please."

Quinn frowned, "Ok…how about a coffee?"

In two split seconds a gun was lodged into her mouth and Quinn was looking into a pair of dark eyes, with blood-red lips whispering, "How about a mouthful of lead?"

A few people screamed. The clown-faced man seemed to look Quinn up and down, before glancing over his shoulder. He saw something that made him change plans; immediately letting go of Quinn and removing the weapon from her mouth.

"Oops, I'm late!" he tutted, pointing to a broken watch on his wrist, "Have a lovely day, ladies!" And just like that, he was gone.

Quinn watched calmly as he rushed past the diner, pulling on a creepy clown mask as he made his way down the streets of Gotham. Everyone around her was in a panic; the other waitresses surrounded her and kept asking if she was ok.

That was the first time Quinn Harlem met the Joker.

And, she decided, she wanted to meet him again.

--

"The Joker has struck again, it seems, with the notorious robbing of Gotham's historical Crown Museum. Various artefacts were stolen as well as many exhibits violated and vandalized…"

The television in her small apartment emitted the Gotham Evening News. Quinn stood there, taking in everything. On her table was a collection of newspaper articles about the Joker, possible suspects and police statements. She was following his every move.

"Where the hell is he striking next?" Quinn wondered aloud. She had maps and guidebooks about Gotham everywhere. Somehow, she thought, if she could discover the pattern he was using….she could beat him to his next target.

And then she saw it.

On the front page, next to a Joker heist article, was the headline: HARLEQUIN DIAMOND TO BE FEATURED AT GOTHAM CHARITY EVENT.

That was it.

She, Quinn Harlem, was going to steal the Harlequin Diamond before the Joker did.

All she needed now was an alias.


	3. Part 3: Enter the Circus

A/N: It is time to continue on with my Harley Quinn story

**A/N: It is time to continue on with my Harley Quinn story. I may split it into two parts:**

**The evolution of Harley Quinn**

**Harley's adventures **

**I keep this beautiful notebook at work, and on breaktime I write more. It surprised me how much I actually wrote in it, but I worked out Quinn's past and how she came to be rather easily. **

**Oh, and there are a million OC added into this.**

**Just so you guys know.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, any other characters or Gotham. But I do own this developmental character of Harley Quinn, as well as Doreena, Choko and Errol.**

--

People often wonder, when it happens, where children go when their parents are killed. Most are either sent o a live with responsible relatives or placed into foster care. They are then often visited by social workers, who ensure that the child is doing well and is taken care of suitably.

But Quinn's case was quite different, simply because she didn't give the authorities the chance to decide for her.

Instead, the smart seven-year-old ran into her room as soon as the police showed up. Narrowly, her tiny frame escaped the grasp of an officer, who begged her not to run, and she went flying out the window. Quickly, she raced down the rickety outside stairs by the brick building and left.

Wrapped in her purple sweater, Quinn disappeared into the night. She didn't know where she was going. All she knew was not to turn back.

After a few hours of wandering, Quinn came across the fairgrounds. It was then she realized: she could join the circus.

It seemed easy enough. Quinn could be a part of a troupe of acrobats, or perhaps be a clown that walked the tightrope. Not that she'd ever been to a circus; Quinn had seen the advertisements in the newspaper. It was the only place Quinn could imagine herself being.

At least for now.

Seeing that the circus was packing up and hoping they hadn't left yet, she reached the gates to the grounds as fast as she could. A little man was seen there, smoking cigarette in his sausage-like fingers, burly with hair sticking out from beneath a worn cap.

"Excuse me," Quinn said, trying to sound professional, "My name is Quinn Harlem, and I was wondering if-"

"Show's over, kid," he said gruffly, "Scram."

"No, I'm not here for the show…" Quinn tried to say.

"I don't care what you're here for," the man said, starting to sound annoyed, "Get lost before I get the dogs on your a-"

"Errol."

At that moment, Choko came in.

The short man was nothing compared to this fellow. He was tall and lean, clean shaven and muscular. He wore a gigantic dark green jacket with black boots. And his eyes- well, they were beautiful. Dark brown and deep. Quinn was mesmerized by him.

Errol flinched, "Choko…uh, hey…:

"If she wants an autograph, give her an autograph," Choko said sharply, "Don't be rude."

"Sir, you don't understand…" Quinn said, stepping forward.

Choko suddenly took in a gasp. Quinn looked down at the blood spots on her sweater.

The blood spots covering the entire front of her clothing.

"My god, this child is hurt," he said, sweeping her up in his arms, "Errol, we must find Doctor Morris-"

"It's not my blood," Quinn told him, "It's my mother's."

As if this made things any better.

"To Doreena," Choko said, heading towards one of the caravans inside the grounds, "She'll know what to do."


End file.
